Premiered in 1950, the opera constitutes an immediate response to fascism, though its indictment of all forms of tyranny is immense. A Prisoner, held by the Inquisition, is persuaded by his supposedly revolutionary Gaoler to attempt escape, only to be re-captured the moment he reaches freedom. The Gaoler proves to be the Inquisitor in disguise, and the Prisoner is faced with the appalling realisation that the cruellest of all tortures is to be deliberately offered the hope of freedom when no such hope exists in actuality. The score replicates the Prisoner's agony by offering its listeners temporary release from its metallic austerity into a world of ecstatic lyricism, only to rob us of its glory. You find yourself weeping tears of rage at the end.

Salonen, in one of his finest achievements, conducted with superb control, tangible commitment and often overwhelming intensity. Lauri Vasar proved similarly tremendous in the title role, registering every emotional shift with uncompromising vividness. Peter Hoare oozed creepiness as the Inquisitor, while Paoletta Marrocu was heartbreaking as the Prisoner's frantic Mother. The Philharmonia Voices were exceptional in the choral interludes, too. David Edwards's eerie, modern-dress semi-staging had its occasional flaws, establishing Inquisitorial deceit too early, which undermined the irony of the end. It didn't detract unduly, however, from the impact of the whole, which was simply unforgettable.